


Assortment of Sense

by lunambulism



Category: Durarara!!
Genre: Character Study, Drabble, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Self-Indulgent, Suicidal Themes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-02
Updated: 2016-05-02
Packaged: 2018-06-05 21:52:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6724978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lunambulism/pseuds/lunambulism
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There’s a certain degree of thrill with the sudden rush of adrenaline and the savage pounding of the heart in the heat of danger. It makes him feel alive, feel like he’s rightfully living like the god he should be, having everything go his way and yet providing a source of entertainment.</p><p>He may just be curious, to see what it feels like in the last few moments before someone knows that they’ll be disappearing into the void. There’s still many, many things that he hasn’t yet experienced, and maybe would like to see or to do before he</p><p> </p><p>  <i>(fades away.)</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Assortment of Sense

**Author's Note:**

> im still alive :,)  
> but maybe slightly stuck in the osomatsu-san fandom im sorry-
> 
> Tried an experimental writing style in this drabble, so anything grammatically or structurally incorrect is on purpose.

Orihara Izaya is not afraid of death.

 

Contrary to popular belief, Izaya, in fact, _always_ loves to dance alongside death.

There’s a certain degree of thrill with the sudden rush of adrenaline and the savage pounding of the heart in the heat of danger. It makes him feel alive, feel like he’s rightfully living like the god he should be, having everything go his way and yet providing a source of entertainment.

He may just be curious, to see what it feels like in the last few moments before someone knows that they’ll be disappearing into the void. There’s still many, many things that he hasn’t yet experienced, and maybe would like to see or to do before he

(fades away.)

-.-.-

Sometimes he wonders how things would be different if he were born into a different life.

 

He tries to imagine flowery fields, maybe a cottage, friends, family, pets, something completely off-track.

And for no reason at all,

it disgusts him.

-.-.-

Which is why he just can’t stop prancing around Ikebukuro, to irk a monster into a fit of rage, because, well, not everyone can see soaring vending machines every day.

Shizuo’s something special, different from everyday life, and most importantly, _dangerous_. A jerk here and a twist there and it’s like dropping a mentos in a coke bottle. You know you shouldn’t, but you _do_. It gives you a twinge that sends a rush of euphoria through you and it’s enthralling, to the point where you would want to research _why,_ and _how_ it works.

 

A human’s thirst for knowledge is a very powerful thing, he knows, he’s saw it before and he’s experienced it before.

 

(Who said a god couldn’t take on paradoxical human qualities?)

-.-.-

“Namie-san.”

No response, instead, he receives an icy glare and the typical cold shoulder. Izaya sighs melodramatically and stares up towards his white ceiling.

“Sometimes, I feel my bones creaking under the weight of all the lives I’m not living.”

Namie quirks a brow up, “Oh?”

She doesn’t ask _why_. Normal people would ask why, and then continue to prod you if you refuse to answer. Namie doesn’t

– she’s not _‘normal’_ –

and it’s one of the reasons why Izaya finds her so fascinating.

 

It’s also a bit more comforting to be around her, which enables him to pour out all his ramblings and different bits and pieces that his mind wanders to here and there without having to explain or be questioned or a confused face and mind.

He receives an impassive face, and he’s fine with it.

 

(Some may say that that’s one of the key features of narcissism. Izaya digresses.)

 

 

He’s not normal either,

after all.

-.-.-

Which is why he finds having multiple ribs crushed, arm broken, bleeding out and having his legs half-massacred, and pinned under a monster

is

fucking exhilarating.

 

He lets out a half-wrangled choke when his neck is held up in large hands, powerful enough to snap them clasping around his frail source of air, yet, his maniacal grin never falters even a bit, instead, only continues to grow sharper around the edges like a predator even when he’s currently in the position of a _prey_.

 

"Do it, monster."

 

(this is what he wanted.)

-.-.-

there’s no feeling, no pain, no anything.

he loves it.

 

It feels like death. The numbness of feeling like you’ve been dunked into oblivion, head-first, eyes open and hands tied behind your back and all of your senses suddenly shut down.

It’ll finally be satisfying to finally be nothing – no pain, no burden, no Shizu-chan – after he proves that there’s finally a monster walking amongst them and that he’s the one who proved it _and he’s the one remembered._

He’s going to die.

 

Well, not that he would mind much, after all,

He always knew,

 

that he was a fuckup.

-.-.-

 

it’s not that he really wanted to die.

 

but

 

(he doesn’t know if he really wants to live, either.)


End file.
